


Every Story, Every Season

by HYPERFocused



Category: Smallville
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-14
Updated: 2003-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 10:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ionah wanted a story that used all episode titles. Lex agreed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Story, Every Season

## Every Story, Every Season

by HYPERFocused

<http://members.aol.com/hyperfocused>

* * *

disclaimer: I own no one on Smallville, nor do I have the rights to the titles used in this little piece. Ionah wanted to see a piece that used all of the episode titles so far. 

* * *

I don't know what it was that gave me the jitters, every time I came near the vortex of teenage innocence and kinetic energy that was Clark Kent. Some would suspect it was just the many bloes to the head I sustained, but I knew better. No _X-ray_ could show my craving for Clark. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, the rush of heat I felt whenever I saw his angelic visage. Far from it, in fact. I imagined him flushed red, from his ever present schoolboy blush, to the cock I wanted to uncover like the Rosetta stone, and translate the mysteries he contained. I needed no camera obscura to illuminate _my_ feelings. What did he _really_ think about me? 

I tried to be a friend, listened to him  drone on about Lana -- a girl he didn't seem to want the way he claimed, their chemistry together was about zero. I helped his friends and his family, supported him when his young friend Ryan met the reaper, No matter what unthinking abuse Clark set on me, I would never stray from caring about his well-being. Some would say it was an inappropriate crush, but I was convinced it was love. 

My metamorphosis, from the rogue hothead who would leech money from my bastard of a father (always a lecture, never a hug), to the young prodigal mogul, fighting the insurgence in his lineage, was all due to Clark. 

My father made me aim for greatness. He made me tense. Just the sight of his helicopter and pilot gave me heaadaches. Our relationship was dichotic, more faces than Janus. 

Clark drove me to _goodness_. His innate warmth seemed to shimmer, his voice in my ear was a  nocturne. (He could play me like a piano, and I basked in his touch). True, there were secrets (and lies) between us, but I hoped that would change as he grew to trust me more. He had sometimes acted strangely since that skinwalker incident, and I wasn't forthcoming about the circumstances surrounding the Nicodemus flower. Duplicity, redux. 

In the meantime, I would try to be cool. I would wear my patience like an hourglass, calmly watching as the grains of sand drifted down, like rain falling on a Kansas farm. My love for Clark was both the tempest and the calm after the storm. 


End file.
